My first car was a very old, and very tired, soft yellow (canary yellow) early 1970s VW Beetle. It was all I could afford and was inexpensive, no doubt, because of the colour. So, as a teenage boy, I was driving around in a light yellow Beetle, which gave you the option of either being cold, or using the stand-alone Webasto heater, which filled the car with petrol fumes but there was a modicum of warmth. Initially, my music choices were limited to the in-dash original AM radio with the one central dash speaker. Listening to poorly received 'music', played on a cheap paper cone speaker is something a generation who have grown up with ipods will never appreciate.
However, and with all that said, that car, more than any other since, represented freedom. 'She' was slow but I received my first speeding ticket going down a very long and very steep hill... and that ticket was tapped to the dash as a badge of honour and my own St Christopher’s medal to all those who laughed at the lacklustre performance of my Beetle. That car allowed me to go on petrol fuelled adventures, leaving the house when I wanted and not being reliant on bus schedules. Was she glamorous, no, but to this day when I see a Beetle it makes me smile. When I hear the unique tune of the engine I get a warm glow inside, instantly being brought back in time; I imagine myself shifting gears, hand on the thin, cold, steering wheel and not caring about anything other than the next mile ahead.
